The fire’s color was on its cream sequence when Elmer’s words completely left his lip, and at that moment a soft wind whooshed around both him and the artifact in his hand at the same time, while the flame burning from The Warlock’s Torch’s sconce instantly turned pitch black.

Reminiscent of the sensation he had felt on his chest when he’d drunk the illusionary potion, Elmer felt his chest burn for barely a second, causing him to wince in pain, before immediately petering out into the sensation of the warm, comfy hands of a child caressing his skin timidly.

Soon after, he felt The Warlock’s Torch suddenly have its weight returned to it, the feeling that seemed like it had been hanging by a string all this while, disappearing at once as though that imaginary string had been cut.

The flaming pyramid-arranged candles did not have their flames go extinguished like The Warlock Torch’s, and Elmer was somewhat glad about that. Despite the lantern on the floor beside the crate which had been used as an altar giving off a susceptible amount of light, no doubt, Elmer was of a disposition that more was better.

Is it over…? No dreamworld or painful experience…? He took a moment to wallow in curious thoughts. Maybe it’s because I joined the pathway as a wish and not through the normal procedure… If that’s the case, then it might actually be possible that the Church has methods that worked in a similar way to this… No… They definitely do… The pain I went through that day was my payment for skipping four years in the Church’s college…

Elmer looked down at where his chest was hidden beneath his buttoned up shirt, as the last trace of warmth on his skin faded away.

Then, without hurry, he placed The Warlock’s Torch back in the middle of the pyramid-arranged candles before going ahead to unbutton his shirt.

It was almost like all his emotions had dwindled significantly with how his fingers, and even every other part of his body, took their time with what they were doing.

He didn’t mind though—rather, he didn’t care.

After all the buttons that had been guarding his chest came undone, he peered at what had become of his skin in that area.

The Crest of Souls, an intricate goblet turned upside down within a jagged circle, had shifted to the left part of his chest, flanking another crest, a beautiful gear-like one in the form of a numberless clock whose hand was pointing upward. The Crest of Time.

Elmer rubbed his fingers on it.

I… I really did it… Elmer’s shoulders dropped. I really am an Ascender of the Pathway of Time now…

All of a sudden a thought wobbled into his head, and that caused him to recite the prayer for spiritual eyesight directing it to the essence of his crest. And just as it had been before, even though he was now of two pathways, it was only an illusory circle of green that he could see.

The supernatural was really hiding the pathways of the Ascenders. So unless he willingly showed it, no one would ever know he was of two pathways.

I wonder if there’s anyone like me, someone with two or more pathways…? How would they have gone about their own ascensions…? The risky method of taking the essence elixir one more time, since I doubt The Warlock’s Torch is an artifact with a lot of copies…?

Suddenly feeling a slight nudge at his heart, he turned over his shoulder and looked upon Craig Wiley for a moment before he pinched his eyes shut and shook his head.

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No… You’ve decided… You are not to feel sorry for the actions you have taken… You are not to feel sorry…!

Elmer exhaled then and proceeded to pick up The Warlock’s Torch.

Knowing that Eddie and Ms. Edna would have heard his second gunshot, seeing as he had allowed it to happen that way, he instantly thought of something to tell them. The truth was out of it.

The fact that they did not come running in shows their professionalism… Sticking to the plan at all costs…

Elmer sidestepped Craig's body once again as he walked up to where he had left his revolver, his waist bag, and the messenger’s letter. He bent over, momentarily relieving his hand of The Warlock’s Torch as he picked up his waist bag first and fixed it onto his waist, a gaping hole vividly etched into the piece of brown leather as well as whatever money was inside.

It was the price he’d had to pay for muffling his first shot, but since he was going to receive the sixty percent of his job fee later, he was not especially bothered.

Having gone against the wishes of his employer to make use of the artifact was not something that troubled him as well. He had readied his explanation long before now. And it had leaned toward his inability to retrieve the artifact before it had been used.

Looking at Craig Wiley’s features now which had discarded the maggots that had been upon it before his death, that plan was going to work. That was if his employer tried to confirm the details of the mission somehow.

He picked up his revolver and the messenger’s letter next, but just as he rose to his feet to unzip his waist bag and bury them inside, the world suddenly came to a standstill.

It was a sensation that aligned with the definition of Eddie Dick’s ability, False Cognition, in hindsight. But Elmer knew that it wasn’t almost immediately.

Eddie’s ability spanned fifty meters away from him, the user, and since that was the case then Elmer should have already been affected right from the moment he’d walked into this warehouse. It was also not from Eddie coming closer, obviously.

The only reasonable explanation was the one that considered the probability of Eddie walking further away from the warehouse and causing it to become fifty meters away from him.

Though, why would he do that?

And since all that was not the case, there was only one scenario that had brought this sort of sensation over Elmer once before. His encounter in the dreamworld!

It was not up to two seconds after he had come to that conclusion did he see a thick white wisp of smoke, swirling about to form the silhouette of a hand, creep over his right shoulder. And with that occurrence was the complete loss of his emotions—no pain, fear, anger, or sadness—just like when he had appeared in that vast expanse of white in the dreamworld.

He was somewhat thankful. Even though he had been forcing his mind to neither care nor think about his actions, it had not been easy to subdue the thoughts that were buried deep within his heart—thoughts that would have had him questioning what he had to sacrifice for his sister.

But now, his heart rate had been completely steadied in a way that was even far better than if he had used his heightened hearing. It was a sensation he had been craving for, and he was glad he had achieved it one way or another.

Something tugged at his mind though, and that was what was happening.

The white smoky hand that had crept over his shoulder suddenly retreated, and in barely a second an ethereal silhouette in the figure of tendrils of smoke warping and coalescing about each other to form a faceless image, appeared before him.

A familiar figure it was, one that appeared to be constantly resisting being blown away by some mysterious wind Elmer could not feel.

The smoky silhouette chuckled then, the sound coming from it one that had an uncanny resemblance to that of a soft wind blowing through a meadow, calm and soothing.

But having met this being once already, Elmer knew that such a tone was something that was completely opposite to its actual character. It should have had a somewhat deeper voice, one that would have been befitting of its sarcastic mannerisms.

Elmer had been frozen stiff where he was standing, a sensation he was not a stranger to, and in that regard all he did was watch the smoky outline of a person hang visibly some distance up in the air.

Although, that was only for a brief moment.

In a flash the ethereal figure appeared before Elmer, its faceless countenance made up of swirling thick smoke less than a forefinger’s length away from Elmer’s face, and in that instant it muttered…

“Hello, Me.”